


Finally Right

by Biblicalplague



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 16:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11993979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biblicalplague/pseuds/Biblicalplague
Summary: Monika knows she isn't beautiful; she's just not Feliciano's type. He sets out to show her how wrong she is. Just once, it would be nice to hear he's right--if not for his sake, then for her own. (Fem!Germany/Italy, Fem!America/Japan) Ultra fluffy. Disgustingly so. Possible sequels and I take requests/suggestions.





	Finally Right

He felt like he was going to die.

“I’m going to die!” the Italian aptly screeched as he doubled over, knees bent and his hands on his thighs, out of breath and pouring sweat. Feliciano Vargas never was one to hide how he was really feeling.

“Stand up straight!” a gruff but feminine voice warned him from behind. Soon enough, Monika Beilschmidt was standing over him. Her skin was also damp with sweat, and he could see from the rise and fall of her chest that her breathing was labored even as she barked orders at him. “You’re just slowing down your recovery time like that! You’ll feel better faster if you stand up straight and keep walking. You’ll let more air into your lungs.”

She was practicing what she preached, too, pacing back and forth with her hands on her hips. Feliciano straightened his back with a small groan of protest, but began to do as she commanded. Soon enough, he was feeling better. That was Monika for you. She always sounded so rough, but he knew she really just had his best interests at heart. She was a good person like that.

A little while later, after their hearts had stopped beating so quickly from their run, they shared a drink of water together in the shade of a tree. “...You know, I’m sort of impressed by you,” she said suddenly as she passed him the canteen. He greedily gulped the water down, but her light praise felt just as refreshing. “It’s peace time for us, but you’re still doing these training exercises with me. I mean, it is a good idea and all, what with the threat of terrorism...and who knows what that crazy America is going to do next...But it seems unlike you.”

After a large drink, Feliciano finished with a gasp and passed the canteen back to Monika. His back hit the grass as she continued to stare at him. Her blue eyes were thinking much too hard about something not really all that important again. She always looked like that when she was studying him. “We’re friends! Why shouldn’t we continue to hang out together~?” he replied breezily, smiling out over the grassy field they’d just been running laps around. Already, the setting sun was turning every blade of grass a brilliant shade of orange.

“Friends...Hm...Ja…”

Feliciano opened one of his amber eyes to steal a glance up at Monika. What a sight. If he was being completely truthful, _this_ was why he continued to show up to train with her. At world meetings, Monika was the picture of professionalism in her trenchcoat and trousers, but here, he could catch glimpses of her in nothing but shorts and a sports bra without immediately being pegged for a pervert. It was a good thing Kiku wasn’t here to see right through him and give him a whack while her back was turned. It was always better like this, just the two of them.

“Why don’t you ever wear a shirt when you train?” he couldn’t help but ask, the question leaving his brain as soon as it had arrived. Not that he minded in the least--well, except for when other people were around. Then he minded just a little that someone else was seeing his Monika in a way he selfishly believed should be meant only for him.

The first time Japan had joined them for training exercises, he’d had to work extra hard to keep his jealousy in check. He’d nearly started his first voluntary fight ever when Japan caught him staring at her and scolded him for being improper towards an ally, as if Kiku himself wasn’t secretly pining for Amelia Jones, _their enemy_ at the time. Their argument had been carried out in whispers until a glare from Monika brought them back to attention. His Monika didn’t care much for bickering or secrets.

His Monika.

He knew he shouldn’t think of her that way, but they’d spent nearly every day together for the past century. A part of Feliciano desperately wanted that to mean something to her, but no matter what he did, she didn’t seem to register his flirtations at all. When she did, she just scolded him for being a flirt and told him to take her seriously. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t flirt _and_ take her seriously--the two did not have to be mutually exclusive.

She barely batted an eyelash at his question. “I don’t wear a shirt because there’s no need to. And it’s hot. It’ll just get in the way.”

“But...your breasts are pretty large and attractive.” He was just pointing out the obvious, but her look was murderous. “Aren’t you worried men will stare?!”

Her cheeks were starting to turn red even against the backdrop of the sun dipping over the field. He could tell just by the bashful expression on her face. “Don’t be a moron. No man looks at me that way anyway.”

“I do~!”

“That’s because you’re a womanizing Italian. It wouldn’t matter what I wore.” There she went again, blowing his advances off.

Feliciano sat up straight. He was insistent. “You always look beautiful, but when you’re all sweaty and in these kinds of clothes, you look more like a sexy pin-up! My blood gets pumping just at the sight!”

She finally slugged him. He’d been expecting that, more or less, but his arm still hurt and he curled in on himself with a whine, cradling his poor, abused limb. She didn’t seem to have any remorse. “Shut up, Feliciano.” It was her next sentence that took him by surprise. “You don’t need to say things like that to make me feel better.” Faintly, he heard her wonder aloud if Gilbert had ‘put him up to this’.

Did she really not know after all these years?

“Monika, you’re beautiful.”

His best friend finally turned to stare at him, her arm raised to punch him again, but he didn’t even flinch. His eyes were open as he looked at her in total seriousness and her arm slowly lowered, surprised to see him looking at her so intensely. He finally had her full attention and Feliciano knew he couldn’t blow this.

“You really are beautiful.” He shifted closer to her, the pain in his arm already forgotten as he reached out. “When I look at you, it’s like looking at a work of art on the same level as Michelangelo’s David. The proportions are just right, and you’re a little stiff like a statue, but I can’t stop looking at you! You really are the most beautiful woman in this whole world.”

His eyes were peering into hers. Monika hadn’t seen him look so serious since the Second World War. The conviction in his voice made her nervous. This was an unfamiliar situation, and the closer Feliciano’s face came to hers, the less she knew how to react.

She just stared at him as he put his lips on hers, a tender yet firm kiss full of intent. Her heart jumped into her throat and she felt her mind go blank before she remembered just who this was. This guy was the biggest flirt in the universe without even trying. She wouldn’t be fooled!

With a well-placed shove from Monika to his face, not unlike the time she had first met him in that tomato box, they broke apart. “Just what do you think you’re doing?!” The things he was saying, doing--they just didn’t add up in her mind. He was her friend, not her lover. Italy liked her as a friend and that was all.

“Ve…” He was a bit disappointed. It had been a nice kiss, but now she just looked scared, like a cornered animal. He wanted her to be happy. With a large grin on his face he hoped to soon have reciprocated, Feliciano happily chirped, “I think I’m kissing the most beautiful girl in the world! Let’s try again, okay~? This time, you kiss me!”

This time the punch hit him square in the jaw.

By the time he had finished crying and rolling around on the ground holding his cheek, Monika was on her feet. “I’m going home.”

“But...why?” He had planned on making dinner for them.

“I don’t want to listen to your lies anymore! It’s insulting! Calling me beautiful! You’re always doing things like that and it doesn’t make any sense! Why are you trying to trick me anyway, huh?! Aren’t we friends?!”

This had gone very, very poorly.

“Si, bella…” When in doubt, resort to speaking Italian. Most women were instantly charmed with just a few words, but Monika wasn’t just any woman. “You are my best friend, but you are also a sweet and pretty lady. I wouldn’t be myself if I didn’t notice.”

“Lies,” she accused again, spinning on her heel and beginning the trek home. “I’m Germany. I’m strong and I’m tough and men barely like to look in my direction, let alone value me for any aesthetic reason...Besides, I’m too tall and too muscular for someone like you to find me attractive at all.” She said it all as if it were merely fact, as if she had recited it many times before. There was no pity for herself, not even any pain or remorse at all in her voice. It was merely how it was and she faced that with the cold, stubborn logic she was known for.

“...Why do you think being strong and being beautiful have to be mutually exclusive?” It was his turn to get angry and defensive, even if it was on her behalf. Feliciano hopped to his feet, a confused and annoyed expression that could rival his older brother’s etched onto his face. And so what if he had to look up at her a little bit? He didn’t mind that she was taller than him--those long legs of hers were gorgeous! To be held in her strong arms made him feel safe and warm. What was wrong with that?

“It’s just how things are. Men don’t find women like me beautiful. They merely find me convenient.” Now that had a hint of sadness to it, no doubt brought upon by the EU’s sky high expectations of her and her financial might. It seemed like everyone was relying on her these days, not because they liked her or wanted to grow their relationship with her--it all came down to her being the only person conveniently wealthy, strong, and stable enough to call up in a crisis situation. Even when she tried to help, men like Greece still detested her.

“Is that how you think I see you?” If she wanted to bicker like an old Italian couple, then so be it. He wasn’t always so spineless, not when it came to matters of the heart. “You think I just see you as convenient? That that’s why I’m here every day?”

Monika blinked and nearly reached up to rub at her eyes. The way his tone changed, the way his face twisted into a dark, angry look--it all took her by surprise and for half a second she wondered if Romano had teleported into the exact same spot where Feliciano had just been standing. But it was definitely him, her Italian. She’d recognize that curl and those amber eyes anywhere.

“Ti amo. Ti amerò per sempre.” His eyes smoldered into hers and she thought she might melt, from embarrassment for something else she wasn’t quite sure. This must be a dream. “Monika, I’ve loved you for a long time. I’ve loved you for your strength, your will, your drive, your good heart and your sense of loyalty. But I am also just a man, and I love you for being beautiful. I love your curves, and your muscles. I love the way your eyes are as cold as ice, but when you’re with your dogs, and even sometimes when you’re with me, they’re so soft and kind. You don’t always have to be so tough, but even when you are, nobody can take away that you’re overwhelmingly beautiful. Nobody can take away how crazy I am about you.”

It must be some mistake, “But...I’m…”

“Strong,” he agreed, approaching her again. “And I love that you’re strong. There’s beauty in strength. But you also don’t have to be so strong all the time. You have me with you always, and even though I’m not much, I know I want to be with you. Being with you makes me want to be a better man. I want to train with you to be stronger, in addition to the perk of getting to see you like this. Most of the time I just want to see you at all, even a little bit! Every morning, I want to wake up to your face, and every time I go to bed too! I really, _really_ love you, Monika!”

His sentences were starting to run together. His voice was losing its edge and turning whiny again. She could even see tears starting to prick the corners of his eyes. _Idiot...Isn’t the girl supposed to be the one who cries at this moment?_

“...Monika?”

She wiped at her eyes. “What?”

“You’re crying...And also, please say something...I need to know if you feel the same way I do. You’re starting to scare me again...”

So she was crying after all. How stupid. This whole thing was so dumb. This weak, handsome man was confessing his feelings of love for her--the strong, ugly woman. But the more she looked at Feliciano, the stronger she found him to be. She could never have poured her heart the way he just had to her. She could never be so sincere and honest with her feelings.

“Feliciano, the truth is…” What was she saying? Normally everything that left her mouth during a delicate situation like this one was so calculated. But now she felt herself operating on autopilot. The words flew out of her before she even registered what they meant.

_“The truth is I’ve loved you ever since the 900s…”_

* * *

It didn’t take long after that for them to fall into each other. On some level, Feliciano had always known it was her, always would be. The transition wasn’t awkward in the slightest--it was as if they’d been together for decades, and in a way they had. Only now Monika didn’t yell at him for sneaking into her bed--he was a welcome and known presence beside her as she fell asleep. They held hands when they walked her dogs, but that was hardly anything new considering Feliciano usually held her hand anyway. Morning hugs and kisses had always felt part of the routine, but now they held true passion and a bit of lively groping on Feliciano’s part. She still wasn’t used to it, always turning a neon pink, but she only protested a little bit. He didn’t have to hold back anymore.

When they made love for the first time, he had been slow and gentle. She still hadn’t felt beautiful just yet and it was a shame, the way she tried to hide herself, but Feliciano was patient. Three times, they failed to consummate their relationship, but he never pressed her, not even after she cried out of frustration, out of guilt.

“There’s nothing to feel bad about! If you aren’t comfortable yet, it’s okay!” he reassured her, taking her into his arms for a change. Seeing Monika cry unnerved him a bit, but she was always strong for him. He could be strong for her for once. “You are so, so beautiful. You are worth the wait. Even if it takes us another thousand years, I will wait for you until you are ready.”

Italians truly were the best lovers.

The fourth time was the charm, and she’d never felt more safe, more loved, or more beautiful.

* * *

When he proposed three months later, Monika accepted with total confidence and Feliciano had never been so happy. Yes, it was wonderful that she had said yes, but even better than that, she hadn’t protested--hadn’t told him he was wrong to want her, to find her beautiful.

He heard through Antonio that Gilbert had never seen his sister so eager to try on a dress, and when she found the right one, Elizaveta told her how beautiful she looked. Monika hadn’t protested, but simply acknowledged her compliment. _“I know. This is the one. Thank you.”_

He was a mess at the altar. “You’re so beautiful!” he whispered to his now much taller bride. She had suggested wearing flats, but Feliciano was a true Italian man and a shoe lover at heart. He had insisted she wear a set of shoes that went with her dress and made her feel her best--if those were her combat boots, he wouldn’t have cared. If they made her another few inches taller than him, what did it matter? She was taller than him already. It didn’t matter at all. “A work of art to move me to tears!”

“...Feliciano, it isn’t time to recite your vows yet.”

“I don’t care! Sei bella!”

Any other day it might have embarrassed her a little, but today was different. Today she just smiled radiantly at him as he was a trembling, crying mess. As usual, she kept it together for the both of them.

* * *

They were an odd pair, no doubt about it. At a grocery store in Berlin, Feliciano had run off to grab a forgotten item as Monika began to check out. When he arrived with a few items in hand to add to their purchase, the cashier had merely glanced at him and then set a divider down between their groceries. It took Feliciano a moment to register the clerk hadn’t thought the pair could possibly be together, much less married.

Even Monika felt uncomfortable as the smaller Italian man hissed, **“Entschuldigen Sie, das ist meine Frau…!”**

She couldn’t remember a time her language had ever sounded so scary and dark before. _The real mafioso…_

Her poor citizen quickly rectified the mistake and continued to stare at the pair as they walked away with their groceries, Feliciano once again bubbly and harmless looking. “Let’s make pasta for dinner~!”

She nodded mutely.

* * *

A few blissful years went by in the blink of an eye. It was like that for countries sometimes. A fifth wedding anniversary came and went, though he still managed to wake up and find her just as effortlessly beautiful as always. Better still, Monika seemed to have a bit more confidence now. It was both a blessing and a curse. He was happy for her, but for some reason people who were confident in their looks seemed to just naturally attract more attention...Every time they went to Italy, he seemed to have to cling to her hip in order to get men to quit calling out to her. It was odd feeling the need to threaten your own citizens, especially when Feliciano felt he really couldn’t blame them. They just had the same love for her as he did, or at least that’s what he tried to tell her.

He was pleased to find she loved his citizens too, especially the younger ones. She seemed to smile a lot more often these days, but especially in the presence of children. Every time Kiku and Amelia brought their daughter Hanako over, she seemed to be secretly eager to hold the little girl.

Then Amelia would laugh and say something stupid, like how it was “so totally funny” she, of all people, had a child. That was a rather scary thought, but it didn’t end there. Frequently, she complained about Kiku being “too old” for her and “taking advantage” of her “fruited plains”. Feliciano wasn’t really sure how their relationship worked--Amelia seemed to enjoy making Kiku uncomfortable. Granted, it wasn’t a difficult thing to do, but Feliciano sometimes worried if his friend was alright. Still, he seemed happy enough.

The comments appeared to affect Monika the most. Sometimes she would do that thing with her eyes, just like she used to; she would painstakingly analyze every person in the room, but especially Hanako.

He wasn’t sure why. She mostly just slept with a content expression on her face. It didn’t matter who was holding her--the kid was practically a zombie. What was there to think about? Unless Monika was concerned she really was one of the undead?

When their friends left, that expression hadn’t changed. Monika sat in one of her favorite armchairs and continued to look perplexed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently, moving to sit on the armrest of her chair despite her repeated scoldings that it would ruin the furniture. “Did you not like seeing them?”

“No, it was nice,” she said slowly, her mind still somewhere else. “I just...can see that they’re really happy together. All three of them.”

“Oh.” That was odd. Maybe she was picking up on something he wasn’t. “I’m glad Kiku is happy. Amelia too. And Hanako is really tiny but she’s a good baby, so well-behaved and sweet!”

Monika looked as if she wanted to say something else. Her eyebrow twitched, an old habit from when she was holding back. “What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing. It’s silly.”

“No, really! Tell me!”

“No.”

“Tell me! Oh, please, Monika! Tell me! You can’t keep secrets from your husband!” He’d just continue to whine like this if she didn’t give him what he wanted. “Please, please, I don’t want to die a cuckold! Or a widower! Please I’ll--!”

“Enough!” she interrupted, glaring at him. “Enough! I was just thinking it would be nice to have a child, okay? There! Now you know!”

She was too much. He was a little surprised, but not at all put off by the idea. In fact, it excited him. He just thought she might need another decade or so to start considering it. “You want to be a mother?”

“...Maybe…” she admitted, looking shy and insecure again. “Who knows?”

“You’d be great at it.”   
She merely looked at him.

He smiled knowingly at her. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not mutually exclusive. You can be both.”

He earned a small laugh from her for that.

Even better…

**_“You’re right, Feliciano.”_ **

**Author's Note:**

> I love family fluff. I'm an absolute sucker for it. Let me know what you'd like to see more of or possible couples you'd enjoy seeing next! I won't write what I don't love but I'm not picky about the order I write certain ships I already had planned (such as more GerIta, PruHun, or AmeriPan, but feel free to inquire and make suggestions!)


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